


Unfinished Business

by sasha1600



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha1600/pseuds/sasha1600
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>‘I need you to do something for me.  For Robbie.’</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’d hoped to finish this in time for Hallowe’en, but RL got in the way. Many thanks to Wendymr for beta and encouragement, and to Lindenharp for feedback on snippets while I was writing.
> 
> A note on pairings/warnings: Val is already dead (in canon and in this story) so I don’t think the ‘major character death’ warning is appropriate... and does it still count as a pairing when one of the partners has been dead for years?

‘James?’

James burrows his head further into his pillow, resisting the pull of consciousness.

‘James Hathaway?’ 

Some part of his brain registers the fact that someone is calling his name. In his bedroom. When he knows he went to bed alone. Suddenly wide awake, he bolts upright and looks around, already reaching for his phone.

‘You don’t know me, but...’

No, he thinks, he doesn’t know her. But he’d know her anywhere. He’s seen her photograph often enough, framed, meticulously dusted, perched in various places in his governor’s flat.

‘You’re Mrs Lewis...’ he begins, surprised at how steady his voice sounds, considering that he’s just awakened in the middle of the night to find a ghost standing next to his bed. He pinches himself surreptitiously, checking to make sure he has awakened, then wonders if dreaming about pinching himself would make him dream that it hurt, and how that is supposed to tell him whether he’s awake or not.

‘Well, I _was_...’ Val gives him a little self-deprecating smile. ‘And you should call me Val. After all, I know you so well. You’re practically family.’

He feels his self-control slipping a bit more. Val _knows_ him?

‘What? How?’

‘I’ve seen how much time you spend with Robbie. I’m glad he has you. You’re good for him. I hated seeing him alone, after...’

James feels himself getting a little giddy at the thought of Val – Val’s ghost – watching him all this time, hovering somewhere out of sight while he shared take-away and crap telly with Lewis. Or maybe manoeuvring the right piece of paper into his line of sight when they pored over files late into the night?

‘He’s never told me that you...’

‘Robbie can’t see me. You’re more... sensitive.’

He feels a rush of sadness for her. How difficult it must be, not to be able to communicate with a loved one. And how sad for Robbie, who he knew would give almost anything to be able to talk to his wife again. 

‘I’ve never seen you before. But you say you’ve been watching...’

‘I can control whether I want people to be able to see me. But even when I try to make Robbie see me, he doesn’t know I’m there. I always loved that about him – sensible, no-nonsense, solid as a rock. Of course he doesn’t see ghosts. Only now...’

She pauses, shaking her head.

‘So why me? Why can I see you now?’

‘Because I need you to do something for me. For Robbie.’

‘Of course.’

‘You don’t know what it is yet.’

‘I’ve seen Poltergeist. If I refuse, my dishes might start defying gravity and my guitar will play itself all night.’

At Val’s horrified expression, he’s quick to apologise.

‘Sorry. I’m joking. Of course I’ll agree. I can’t imagine that you’d ask for anything I wouldn’t do for Inspector Lewis.’

Val’s nose wrinkles in distaste.

‘Why don’t you call him Robbie?’

‘He’s never invited me to.’

‘ _That man_... Maybe I should make _his_ dishes defy gravity...’

He must have looked horrified himself, because Val quickly laughs, and assures him that _she’s_ joking this time.

‘I’ve been trying to make him see me for ages. But now, he’s cleaning out the last of my things. Which is good. He needs to let me go, to get on with his life. To be happy. It’s just... he’s going to throw away my makeup case. The cufflinks I was going to give him for Christmas the year that I... well... they’re hidden behind the mirror. I need you to make sure he finds them.’

He’s nodding before she finishes the request.

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you, James. I knew I could count on you.’

There’s no goodbye, just a slowly increasing translucence signalling her departure. _Bloody perfect_ , he thinks, watching her fade away. How the hell is he supposed to explain to his governor that his dead wife’s ghost just appeared in his bedroom?

As he considers how to approach what can only be a bloody awkward conversation, greater doubt begins to creep into his mind. How can he expect Lewis to believe he has a message from a ghost, when he’s not at all sure himself what just happened? Was it really Val, he wonders, or a dream? A fragment of an underdone potato? Or, more likely, Dickens notwithstanding, a slightly dodgy lamb korma? Maybe he should try to forget the whole thing happened, he thinks. What if he raises Lewis’s hopes, only to have him find that there’s nothing there, after all? But, no, he can’t do that. Leaving aside the promise he made – and the question of whether ethics or honour demands the keeping of a promise made to a ghost who may or may not really have been there at all – if Mrs Lewis’s last gift to her husband is there, if James is able to prevent his governor, his friend, from missing his last chance at finding it, and he does nothing... No, he thinks. He deserves to be haunted, if he doesn’t give Lewis this message.


	2. Chapter 2

James sees the surprise in Lewis’s eyes when he answers the door. It isn’t the first time James has turned up early in the morning, but usually it’s to pick him up for work, and usually it has been arranged beforehand. Unexpected clearly doesn’t mean unwelcome, though, because Lewis steps back and waves him inside.

Any lingering uncertainty about his mission is swept away when he has to sidestep several boxes piled in the narrow hallway.

‘Having a bit of a clear-out, sir?’

Lewis hesitates.

‘Er... yes.’

He doesn’t elaborate about the fact that it’s Val’s things that he’s planning to bring to the Oxfam shop on his way in to work.

James takes a deep breath before plunging in, gesturing at the pile.

‘Is there a makeup case somewhere in there?’

Lewis looks like he would have been less surprised if his bagman had asked him if he had a severed head in one of the boxes.

‘If so, you need to check behind the mirror.’

The silence hangs heavily between them until Lewis finally responds.

‘What are ye talking about, man?’

‘I know how it sounds, sir. And I know you probably don’t believe in... spirits. Ghosts. Visions. Whatever. But last night...’

He trails off, not knowing how to finish without causing hurt.

‘James?’

‘I saw a ghost last night. Or maybe it was a dream. Or... Just... Mrs. Lewis told me to tell you not to throw away her makeup case without checking behind the mirror.’

He’d expected disbelief. Mocking, maybe. The anger is completely unexpected.

‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, sergeant, but it isn’t funny.’

‘Sir...’

‘I don’t appreciate you taking the piss about... about Val.’

‘Sir, I’m not... I would never...’

‘Stop, James. Just... just stop.’

‘Sir!’

There must be something of his desperation in his expression, because Lewis relents enough to give him a chance to explain.

‘All right, then. Tell me this, sergeant. Tell me why _my_ wife would give _you_ this message, instead of... instead of...’

Lewis trails off, his anger overwhelmed by his inability to give voice to the idea that Val could have chosen to speak to him. And didn’t.

‘She tried to, sir. She said you couldn’t see her, because you don’t believe it’s possible.’

‘So it’s my fault?’

‘No! Sir... she told me she loved that about you, that you are sensible and solid. Too sensible to see ghosts.’

‘But I’m supposed to believe that you _can_ see ghosts?’

‘Apparently I’m more... sensitive... to that sort of thing.’

Lewis looks at him incredulously.

‘Look, I don’t know how to explain it! I didn’t... oh. Hello again.’

Suddenly, Val is there, standing just beyond the doorway in the lounge.

Lewis is looking at him irritably, but James’s attention is on the instructions Val is giving him.

‘Tell him I always said he was a stubborn git.’

‘No, I’m definitely _not_ telling him _that!_ ’

‘James?’

His hope that his boss might suddenly develop the ability to see ghosts is dashed when Lewis glances back over his shoulder, looking right at the spot where Val is standing, then turns back to him in confusion. Val doesn’t seem surprised, and takes pity on James, giving him a message to convey that is less likely to get him hauled up on charges of insubordination.

‘She says I should remind you of the time you petrified a piece of fish in the microwave, because you wouldn’t believe it could cook in as little time as the instructions said.’

Lewis’s eyes widen and he spins in a slow circle.

‘Val?’

He turns back to James, clearly still not able to see her.

‘Sir.... I don’t know how to explain it. Just... What can it hurt to check, even if it’s just to humour me? If there’s nothing there, you can tell me I’m completely daft and send me on my way, and I’ll arrange to be checked for a brain tumour or whatever it is that makes people think they see ghosts.’

Lewis stares at him for a long moment, then sighs and begins to rummage in one of the boxes, coming up with a surprisingly large leather box.

‘I dumped out all the lipsticks and things, of course, but it’s a good case, I thought someone might...’

James just nods. There’s a long pause before Lewis flips the lid open and levers the mirror out of its slot on the inside of the lid. The angle at which Lewis is holding the box prevents James from seeing into the cavity behind the mirror, and Lewis doesn’t say anything, the silence becoming deafening while James argues with himself about whether he should ask if there’s anything there. 

‘Sir?’ he asks at last.

In reply, Lewis tips the box towards him, letting him see the two silver cufflinks pinned to the satin fabric that lines the case. 

‘James... I don’t know how... Thank you.’

Behind him, Val brushes away silent ghostly tears.

‘Val? Can you... Is she still here? Can she hear me?’

‘She can hear you, sir,’ James tells him, almost before Val nods.

‘Oh, God... Val! I miss you, bonny lass...’

‘She misses you, too, sir, and wishes that you could see her, hear her.’

‘I wish you could see the kids, Val... Wait, can you...? Does she know how Lyn and Mark are doing? And the bairn?’

‘She knows, sir. Lyn and Mark can’t see her, either, but she can see them. And she is starting to suspect that perhaps your grandson _can_ see her.’

Lewis smiles fondly. ‘Good. He should know his gran.’

Something in Val’s expression changes, and she begins to flicker gently.

‘She says...’ James has to pause and swallow hard. ‘She says he won’t remember her, because she can’t come back any more. Not after... The cufflinks, sir. That was the unfinished business that let her come back.’

‘What? No! Val! Don’t go, not again!’

‘She has to, sir. She says she loves you, she’ll always love you. And she’ll be waiting for you. When...’

‘I love you too, lass,’ Lewis whispers.

James watches as Val fades away, the silence heavy in the hallway for a long moment before Lewis makes a visible effort to pull himself together.

‘Thank you, lad. For...’

‘Yeah.’

‘I know we’re already late. But would you mind waiting a bit longer?’

‘Of course, sir, if you need a minute...’

‘What I need, James,’ he says, fingering the buttoned cuff of his left sleeve, ‘is to change me shirt.’


End file.
